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The Sweirdish Mind of Henrik Elmer

Contemplating his shortcomings of the last two decades, Swedish
comedian Henrik Elmer suddenly realised that life mustn't be
taken too seriously. Especially not other people's lives.

Henrik wrote a TV pilot reflecting his new insights. Since
he doesn't own a TV channel he will present his script from stage.
The TV show will take place in the audience minds, with the help
of extremely modern technology. A microphone, a sound system...
and, if he can afford it, a mind projection device.

Henrik believes his script might help other people in his
own situation. If there are any, which is doubtful.

Comedians

Reviews

Original Review:

As a Swede, Henrik Elmer is no doubt used to unforgiving icy
environments virtually devoid of life, which must be ideal preparation
for a mid-afternoon slot in one of the Fringe's less high-profile
venues.

So with a sparse smattering of punters but quite a lot of
furniture, it's difficult to get much of a lively stand-up vibe
going. And since jolly audience banter isn't this strange, cerebral
comic's strongest suit, as he proves a few times this afternoon,
the show proves hard work for both him and us.

Running at only three-quarters of its advertised hour, The
Swierdish Mind Of Henrik Elmer is fifty per cent clever, crafted
jokes; fifty per cent mind-bending weirdness that doesn't quite
connect. It has all the hallmarks of a strongly written 20-minute
set diluted by experimental, unfinished work undertaken just
to get enough material together for a Fringe show.

Elmer's best lines come from applying a warped, but ruthlessly
rigid logic to things he's seen, or, better yet, his own self-confessed
eccentricities. He has overwhelming compulsions, for example,
to throw his keys in the river, because by going through with
it, the tension of thinking that he might possibly do something
so stupid will be relieved. In a similar vein, he imagines overtly
complex practical jokes to get back at minor irritants, so convoluted
and time-consuming that they'd be more like impractical jokes.

It works because Elmer's persona is so clearly bonkers. Bonkers
in a restrained, Scandinavian way, hidden behind an implacable
façade, rather than it any tiresomely zany way, but bonkers
nonetheless. It's not coincidence that he gets one of his biggest
laughs not from a smart punchline but by the set-up: 'As I child,
I was a bit strange'

Alongside his arid, but inspired, stand-up, Elmer reads the
outline of a nonsensical sitcom episode he's created, a contrivance
that only detaches him further from the audience. Parts of this
are unnecessarily complicated ­ especially the convoluted
and self-consciously surreal idea of training a parrot to say
he's a monkey while reading Arthur Schopenhauer philosophy books
to it, which loses any joke in its labyrinthine exposition.

That said, Elmer does also apply his steely reason to come
up with the perfect, incontrovertible answer to religious evangelists
proclaiming that 'Jesus died for out sins', so kudos for that.

All his ideas are woven together elaborately, with callbacks
aplenty creating a detailed, layered show. If only all the material
were up to his best, he'd really be on to something.